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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538471">Night Terrors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunnyMints/pseuds/OnceNFutureDork'>OnceNFutureDork (PunnyMints)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Reader Insert, cobb has ptsd, cobb vanth - Freeform, i am soft, i needed some fluff cuz i'm sad, let me be sad and write vent fics, whoops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:34:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27538471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunnyMints/pseuds/OnceNFutureDork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cobb, despite his tough exterior, still has his weak moments.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cobb Vanth/Reader, Cobb Vanth/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm sad okay, think of this as a vent fic with space daddy okay</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The marshal thought long ago that the nightmares were done. And yet, they surprised him every time, gripping his shirt with feverish and inky fingers and sunk into his soul, shaking him awake in the worst of ways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, he was sitting up in bed, body drenched in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. His chest heaved, and his heart drummed wildly in his chest as if to seek escape. Cobb gave a thick wheeze, standing, legs shaking under him. His armor. Where was his armor? He needed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood, the thin sheet tossed aside easily, over the sleeping figure next to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My armor, where did I put it? I need it. I need to put it on.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unsteadily, the marshal piddled to the dresser, eyes clouded by the dark. He ran his hand over the rough surface, palms slick against the top. No, not there. No armor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, no, no-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His legs trembled as he walked, brain muddled. Words were scrambled in his head as his hands roamed the walls, guiding himself through the maze that he didn't know. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This isn't my house. Where am I? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't recognize his countertop when the sanded corner bore into his hip. Wordlessly, he grunted, moving aside, steps stuttering through the kitchen. Each step was a resounding word, memories flooding him with every one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armor- home- Tusken- Armor-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Armor.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His safe place. Security. The heavy green that shielded him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bar.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That night, when the war was declared over, when the rebellion had won and rose to the New Republic, when the bar had been raided and he couldn't protect his own people, his friends, his own charges. He'd been picked to help them and he had failed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sand, sand, heat- </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had trudged through the desert for days, no armor, vulnerable, lost. Forever he had been without a family, a home, a place, and the one place- </span>
  <em>
    <span>gun</span>
  </em>
  <span>- he had- </span>
  <em>
    <span>bodies</span>
  </em>
  <span>- he’d failed to keep it safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cobb staggered, a hand dragging on the counter, and he sunk to his elbows, fingers searching. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My armor, it has to be here, where is it-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a clank behind him, a soft thud. Fabric rustled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cobb’s head snapped back and his hand moved uselessly to his hip, fumbling for a gun that wasn’t there. “N-no,” he stuttered, hand only landing on the band of his briefs. No gun. No belt. “No, no, no.” He snarled, spinning around to find something, anything, that he could grab and use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The steps drew closer, quicker. “Baby,” The voice said. “Cobb, Cobb, it’s me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cobb, wordlessly, helplessly, reached his arms out. “Darlin’,” He wheezed, back sliding down the counter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My armor, my armor, where is my armor!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nights in Mos Pelgo were cold, but her hands were warm. Her fingers rested on his cheeks as she dropped to her knees, and her lips were warm too, pressing to his feverish forehead, lips providing gentle relief to his creased brow. “Stars, Cobb, you’re warm,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My armor-” The Marshal tried to sit up, straining against the gentle arms wrapped around his blithe form. “Where is my armor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gave it to the Mandalorian, Cobb.” She reached out again and tenderly pulled him to her. “Cobb, let’s get you back to bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My, my gun, baby, my gun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, you don’t need it, shhh.” She leaned in and examined his face, drawing in a breath. His eyes- his normally bright and mischievous eyes, they were clouded over, with sleep and nightmares and fear, the glint in them hazey as he mumbled on and on about the bar, his weequay friend, the guns and the men- the men who came in. He needed that armor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tried to stand. Instead, Cobb’s arms tightened around her, his throat trembling as he emitted a low whimper. The woman stiffened, hands slowly working up his arms and moving to his back, resting against him, coaxing his head into her chest. “You’re alright, baby.” She mumbled, a limber hand running through his mussy hair. “You’re home and you’re safe. There’s no men here-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to be safe-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I am.” She kissed his head again, with the patience of a Diathim, an angel, and ethereal being, willing to hold him and kiss him all night if the need to do such arose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cobb’s breath hitched and he gripped her tighter, “Darlin’, pretty girl, don’t leave me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The comforting arms around him tightened, to his somewhat relief. Her voice, gentle and soft and smooth, whispered somewhere against his temple. “I won’t,” The woman hummed. “But, Cobb, baby, you need to come to bed.” When he tightened his grip on her, she moved her hand down his locks and over his face, short nails lightly scratching his stubble. “I know. But I’ll hold onto you, the whole time. Please, come to bed, to be comfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A grip of his hands, reluctance to release her. She may run, she may hide, she may be taken-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she worked her way up, allowing him to lean against her for support, arms still enclosing her tightly, stubbornly. As they walked back into their room, her soft form tugging him along calmly, she mumbled reassurances. “The doors and windows are locked and I turned the heating radiator down. You’re sweating a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She eased Cobb onto the mattress, slowly sinking next to him. “Do you want a light?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was only silence next to her, inking in everywhere her eyes touched. Then, there was a grunt, and an arm over her stomach. “You,” Cobb mumbled. “I… you’re here, you’re safe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am,” The woman stroked his hair again, humming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The quiet refilled, but it was tenser. A gasp, from somewhere, broke the thickening silence, and Cobb realized in a horrible thought, a dreadful moment, that it came from him. “I- I couldn’t save-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, none of us knew.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But- it was my job-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Love.” His lover said, turning away from him. Cobb’s arm tightened with another sob, and he found himself squeezing his eyes shut as a soft light filled the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled over, hair flipped towards the pillow, and she grabbed him in her arms, gathering his weakened form tightly against her. “None of it was your fault, Cobb. None of us could have known.” She hummed. “You aren’t your armor, Cobb. A good marshal with it, but the clothes don’t make the man. You know that better than anyone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cobb’s breathing hadn’t changed. He was still drawing breaths like a thirsty man at a well, hands trembling as they gripped her. “I should have-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Life is full of should-haves and would-haves and could-haves, Cobb.” Her words were soft, but finalizing. “No one- look at me.” Her smaller hands moved against his jaw and tilted his had, barely, up, to where his foggy eyes could see hers. Their brilliance, their brightness, their absolute radiance, it broke him, and he drew in an unsteady sob. “No one blames you. I promise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that didn’t matter if he still blamed himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She realized, after a moment, that none of this was working. Her tone softened and she kissed his head, guiding his face against her chest again. The smell of her shirt, the essence of her, of her presence, it soothes him. “Listen to my heartbeat, baby.” She whispered. “I know you have nightmares. I do too. But listen to me, my heartbeat. Breathe in-” On cue, she inhaled heavily, waiting for his shaky breaths to follow and fill with air- “and out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This went on, repeating, for a few minutes, until the feverish marshal collapsed into a fitful slumber, fingers grasping handfuls of her shirt, tightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fingers moved gently in his hair, ribs vibrating as she hummed tenderly. Cobb slept on, mumbling, twitching, as his grip on her loosened and tightened through the night. The woman sighed and stared up at the ceiling, the amber tendrils of the lamp slowly stretching across the tight ceiling and warming the room some on the cold night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she knew that Cobb would wake up and remember that none of this had happened the night before. He never did.</span>
</p>
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